A circle bent into an oval
Moved its spine
And broke its back
Mutter of the softest furl
Concieved of frail tongue
A circle but a hole
A hole but a window
Pure negating black
Mutter of the faintest voice
Ethereal blister
In one smooth fade
The warp within the oval
The perpetuation within
A circle
Pale as thin whispering
Pure and still